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*
I watch in horror as Austin, my best friend, takes yet another sack.
"Oh, come on!" I yell, throwing down my pom-poms in sheer aggression. "Michael, get your head in the game and don't let him pass you!"
"Av, relax, its a game." Hailey scolds me.
I check myself and realize I was completely out of line, acting like one of the wild men in the crowd. Ladies don't yell, nor do they care about a stupid high school football game. I sigh and readjust my ponytail, making sure no stray blonde hairs stand up. Always have to appear presentable and put together, no exceptions.
"Ready, okay!" I then lead my cheerleaders in a cheer about not keeping us down. Ignoring the drunk catcalls from the audience.
Those are normal. Pretty little teenagers exposing their navel and bouncing around in a miniskirt. I tried getting the uniforms that cover more, but the other girls insist on less. You'd think as their captain, they would listen to me. To which they do, occasionally, if it doesn't interfere with them looking like scarlet ladies. We came to the unhappy agreement of long sleeved tops that gave sight to our tummies pared with a not modest skirt that has a slit on the right thigh.
When my mother first laid her judgmental eyes on me in the uniform, she didn't yell at me to go to my room and put on actual clothes. Instead she smiled like a cat who found her dinner and said, "That'll do."
I see as the crowd leaps to their feet in excitement, quickly I turn.
Austin gears up to throw the ball, but none of the receivers are open.
Somehow he doesn't notice this. If he throws the ball, a Panther has a chance to pick it.
"No! Run it! Run!" I shout at the top of my lungs.
Above all the ruckus, he heard me. With a slight crook of his neck, Austin is staring at me from behind the colorful visor on his helmet. I scream at him what he needs to do. Tucking the ball safe into his arms, Austin powers through the bodies of the sweaty players.
Thirty yards... twenty... ten... five... he scores!
Devin, our kicker, made the simple shot into the goal posts.
"And the Knights lead 21-14" Mr. Wilson, the commentator announces. A known horn blared, "That's half time."
The smelly jocks made their way to the locker room, Austin pulls me aside, "Avery, you need to stop saving my ass and walk on that field yourself."
"You know I can't."
"You play better than me any day, since we were kids. So what if you're a girl? So what if your mom might loose her hair? You deserve to."
I sigh indignantly, "My dad would-"
"See what a ass kicker his baby girl is."
"Yo, Austin, you coming or what?" Ty hollers.
"Go." I nudge him.
He throws me a glance of pure stubbornness, "This isn't over."
I didn't expect it to be.
The game is back in full swing, last quarter and the Panthers are leading by a touchdown and two field goals. If only Austin would discreetly pass the freaking ball to Davis then they could rush the last fifteen yards. Or even take a risk and toss it to Duke, our fastest receiver.
Then the unthinkable happens.
There's a gap in the human wall, allowing Panther number 76 easy access to Austin. The player takes the stupidly obvious opening and heavily tackles the QB.
Now, Austin has taken many hits in his football career, none compared to this.
He fell hard, his left ankle bending in all the wrong places.
Surely, most first season home games don't go this way. While attending Stonehenge High, you learn nothing goes the way it should. Country folk love when the right goes wrong, gives the ticker some excitement.
The referee blows his whistle and I scramble to my friend, "That looked horrible."
"Really? I'd say it looked sorta brave." he grins, weak.
Dad gently grabs Austins ankle and gives it a roll, making our tough quarterback gasp like a girl.
"That bad, huh?"
"You've no idea Coach."
It took all of our linebackers to get a whimpering Austin into the locker room.
They were all outside, trying to figure out who could be a proper substitute for Austin.
"Avery,"
"Austin."
"Put on my uniform, and get those fucking Panthers."
"Won't you let this go?" My temper spikes. We've been having this argument as long as forever. He doesn't seem to comprehend a rather easy fact; girls do not play football.
"Hell no. I'm tried of seeing you prance around, chanting lame rhymes. You're more then that, you have talent and you're being selfish by not sharing it with the world." I can't handle it when he uses those dreadful brown puppy eyes on me.
I smile, "You wont stop 'till I do, will ya?"
"Just merely a Southern gentlemen tryin' to get a mighty fine lady outta her shell."
Being from Alabama and all, we have pronounced accents, but Austin went a little too deep in the old Southern ways of speech.
"Thank the great Lord we're about the same size."
Not gonna lie, it was a hassle to get all the football protection on, even with Austin's help. We're the exact same height, but I have assets that my male friend doesn't. Luck, it would be, was in my favor. Good thing football players must wear layers of protection.
Austin always has to have under amour on, the white shirt is kind of baggy but not to when you could spot it. I put that over my top. Making him cover his eyes, I quickly take off my skirt and put on his black pants with all the necessary padding. I have to tie the strings to fit my slim hips.
Then his shoes, which I had to wear four pairs of socks just to make them fit. Boys normally wear long socks, it wasn't unusual that I brought them up to hide my calves. The thickness of the fabric could be mistaken as muscle. I made sure they were pink, for breast cancer, course those were the ones you couldn't see.
I had to get Austin to aid me with the shoulder pads. They were a lot heavier then what they looked. Oddly, I enjoyed this.
Finally, his brand new grey gloves and deep blue number 11 jersey and like magic, I'm Austin. Well. I'm in his clothes and you can't tell its me.
I tie my hair in a tight bun.
"At least we both have blond hair, yours may be lighter, but no one will think twice. Don't let them see your eyes though, how could I suddenly exchange my brown eyes for blue ones? And when the game ends, run straight in here and hide. I'll be waiting."
I nervously nod then place his dark blue helmet on my head. The visor reflects a rainbow color, concealing my face. I twist sideways, gazing at the black knight on the side.
"Any other advise?" I could do with some reassurance.
"Yeah, don't talk. I ain't no high pitched sissy."
I walk out the room, careful to walk like Austin with my feet apart and my hands swinging by my sides.
Dad's gaze comes to me, "Austin."
I stick out my left foot and roll it in every possible way.
"Are you sure?" Dad's lips are tightly form a grim line. I think he knows Austin isn't standing in front of him, but he doesn't think its me either.
I give him, the ref, and other players a thumbs up.
"Alright." Ty hoots.
We walk to the turf and I stand on the sidelines.
"Yeah, Austin!"
"Bring home the W boy!"
"You can do it!"
"No more tackles!"
"You da man!"
Dad roughly put his hand on my shoulder, "Block them out, and play the game. You aren't Austin, but obviously you want to be a secret. That's fine with me. Remember, people will talk, what matters is,"
"-how high you walk. But always continue to play the game" I deeply grumble. That was his saying, how every coach has their one go-to line, my dad's felt dorky.
Dad chuckles, "Steal my words why don't ya? Play a good game son."
The ref whistles, and we position ourselves on the field. I take a calming breath and send my players to their rightful places. My throat is gonna ache in the morning.
I recall this day, and how it defined my life.
Not once have I come to regret it.
*
And there it is.
I don't know much about football, I googled what I do know now so if you see any boneheaded mistakes, call me out!
And Stonehenge, Alabama is a made up place. Along with the high school, people, and other places that will come.
This is barely the beginning, I hope y'all liked it!
~Peace